Everlasting
by TheSoundofMusicandLove
Summary: Aboard the SMS Titanic, Hermione Granger Malfoy along with her cousin Harry Potter and his fiancee Ginevra Weasley are journeying to the Americas. Little does she know that some one else is aboard. Someone she'd rather not meet. But fate has other ideas, because there is no greater place than the ship of dreams to make one's most deepest, truest wish come true...
1. Chapter 1

_**Title: Everlasting**_

_**Rated: M for a purpose**_

_**Pairing: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger (Malfoy)**_

_**Disclaimer: I make no profit out of this, a story strictly for entertainment purposes and I do not own anything...which all belongs to J.K Rowling and Warner Bros.**_

_**Author's Note:**_

_**This story revolves around Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger (Malfoy). The whole story is aboard the SMS **_**_Titanic, with a few other characters. Because I know readers don't live in my head and can't fully comprehend the synopsis of my story/ intentions...here it is...Hermione is secretly married to Draco Malfoy, but is currently suffering an illness that's quickly stealing her most precious memories away. The only one who know's of her illness is Harry Potter, her dearest friend and cousin (on the mother's side)...They're journeying to the Americas...Charleston to be precise...to find a specialist that they're sure can help her. What she doesn't know however is that Draco is aboard the Titanic, journeying to his family estates in Charleston. Continue reading to find out what happens when their paths cross..._**

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The sweet smell of summer and predestination lingered in the air, mingling into the insteps of eager contenders that shifted and shuffled onto the decks of the SMS Titanic. The docks flocked with passengers and on-lookers. The excited hue and flush of a bright day splashed into the hearts of everyone and as the final steams drifted into the air, an awed hush fell over the crowd. The last mingling passengers were lined onto the extension, handing in their tickets and trying to calm their hopes and fears; which tumbled rapturously sync to their beating hearts. The hush that hung over the crowd ceased instantaneously, as the extensions were lifted off of the ship and the entrances were sealed in rock-hard steel. A cheer was sounded as the SMS Titanic let out it's rebellious screech and pushed out into the water, mystifying and captivating all and any that beheld it. Shouts, whistles and waves were heaved into the water, rebounding off the core of the gigantic ship and sailed onto the decks, meeting, in response, shouts and waves of enthusiasm and laughter. It was a sweet moment, one that tingled in every heart long after the ship had drifted out to the centre of the water, prevailing the golden hues of the dream of a new life in the new world, at least for those who could afford it.

Draco Malfoy stepped out onto level "A's" deck and leaning onto the polished rail, narrowed his eyes at the view. He both envied and pitied the people below him. Envying their happiness and presistance of hope. Pitying their blind trust that things would work out and be better than it was; when truly it simply would not happen. He tsked slightly, shifting his gaze to the horizon and hoping that for all the pestering his mother and father had been giving him, they would at least find the ship to their liking. A sneer curled his perfect lips as he considered the prospect of anything ever pleasing Lucius Malfoy. The purist git that was his father, suffered from the illness of being spoon-fed a load of bullshit from an outlawed, evil old prud who believed himself above all else; when in truth, his prechings defiled the very blood that flowed through his veins. Although it had taken them quite sometime, the prueblood rank also known as the higher elite, had come to admonish and con-temperate what exactly the old hag was preaching. And then, his father's larger-than-life ego had been deftly dealt, causing the cold, emotionless power-ranking elite to sulk at his wounds, being the head of the pack to support the purist. So now this was where they had landed, setting up to take care of their large estates in Charleston.

Draco's eyes caught hold of the blurring vision of red, the rich wine color splaying over delicate, creme skin which glowed a healthy hue in the golden tints of light. A thick, troublesome mass of dark brown locks were twisted and pleated into an intricate chignon, the silky locks gleaming and teasing him. He shifted slightly, leaning even more over the rail to catch a glimpse of her face. It was odd, the sense of familiarity tugging at his insides. He saw another figure, taller and much more skinny than that of the one in red, move next to the girl; a bulb of red ginger locks blocking his train of vision. The younger girl, for indeed her stance insisted of her naivety, seemed to steer her away from the lower rail, much to his annoyance, beckoning her to carry on. He pushed a hand in his pocket, racking the free one through his corn silk hair. He heaved a frustrated sigh when his curiosity was not apaced and both figures disappeared without him catching even the slightest glimspe of either faces.

A wispy touch, as light as a feather brushed his hand and Draco turned to stare into the worried slate grey irises of his mother. He smirked at her, sliping a comforting arm around her slumping shoulders and kissing her lightly powdered forehead. She embraced him wholeheartedly, patting his back slightly.

"How are you dear? I haven't asked you that for the last few days. Are you excited about getting to see my father's estates in the Americas? I have heard that since the introduction of steel mills have been made, there's quite a good progression to gaining some sort of profit" Narcissa Malfoy murmured, her voice soft and barely audiable. He nodded slightly, as if agreeing with something she had said, pinching the bridge of his nose in thought.

"I suppose, it would be a profitable experience. Although we do not exactly need any help in profits. And I suppose that this will be a good experience, altogether, for you and father. It shall do you good to rest for some time" he drawled out slowly, his voice deeply coated with emotion. It was rare to see the rake...the arrogant bastard that was Draco Malfoy to speak with anything other than his usual cold and passive demeanor. He turned them both towards the entrance-way from whence they both had passed, the chill of the water and setting sun, settling in the air. He kept his arm around his mother, ignoring the prodding eyes of plain blue-stockings who lingered here and there in the main halls. He had long but forgotten the enticing figure in red that had captivated and bewitched him for a few good, oddly peaceful moments.

Hermione Granger sighed for the thousandth time for that day, her thoughts dragging her deep into the recesses of her mind, not allowing her to enjoy the tranquility of the view in front of her. She felt the odd prickling sensation at the nape of her neck, almost as if someone was observing her closely. However, the thought was quickly brushed to the side, for she had other worries to ponder over; such as finding a way to _remember_ her 'secret' husband. And was it not odd for one so young, for indeed she was young, to have need to 'remember' something...so...so very obvious. For indeed the status of a young woman was nay too complex to remember, especially when it was said young woman's marital status. To add to her dilemma, she found that each day got dimmer and something kept disappearing from her and she feared...oh how she feared that soon, she will wake and forget even herself. There was only one means of finding a cure. Going to the Americas, seemed to have been her only hope. Her god-parents and their children had been willing contenders, fully supporting her decision to start new; although they did not know the cause for this abrupt decision. What they did not know could not possibly hurt them.

Ginevra, the youngest and sweetest of the Weasley clan, touched her elbow, beckoning her to follow her to see the dolphins on the other end of the level "C" decks. She certainly could not afford their room and boards, but her god-mother Molly was not hearing any talk about her paying for anything and so it was another thing she had to be grateful for. A stabbing of guilt and pain pierced her heart but she pushed it aside, hoping that they would understand. Again she cursed her health, hating that she was getting too weak to solve their current state. But as her eyes fell upon the swooshing of the slippery mammals, her mind closed in and for a moment, she was allowed some peace. She watched the water, the liquefying depths crisp and beckoning, almost like the soft, feather tick mattress that awaited her body. She gripped the railing, refusing to allow the dizziness in her head to take over her senses. But alas it was futile and lifting her handkerchief to her lips, she sniffed at the smelling salts she had had Harry dab into her handkerchief. Quickly folding the kerchief after the onslaught had subsided, she dicarded it into her pocket, moving swiftly away from the rails.

The swift shadows of the hallway sent a chill up Hermione's spine, but strengthening her back, she placed her best smile onto her features and took deep, calming breaths. The strong masculine arm of her cousin gripped her hand. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she gave him a weary smile. She saw the worry in those green-blue eyes of his, which were incased by round, wire framed spectacles that added a luster to them. He had seen and lived a harsh life and only those who knew him well could see it thinly veiled behind the glossiness of his irises. Giving him a winning smile, she ignored his disbelieving gaze and gratefully accepted his arm.

"Harry?" she began as they neared the dinning hall.

"Yes?"  
"Tis nice being engaged, is it not?"

"Absolutely marvelous. Especially since the betrothed is a lot like a certain cousin of mine." Hermione laughed, hitting him playfully in the arm. He gave her a warm and affectionate look, squeezing her hand.

"Are you well? You look rather pale" he murmured, the worry returning in his eyes. She nodded readily, hoping to change the subject.

"Never have I been in finer health, thank you."

"Oh, do not bring this up to night. 'Tis your engagment dinner and I will not have you ruin my good mood. I should have never told you about my illness" she added.

"You did not 'tell' me anything. I had to pry it out of your doctor, rather stubborn chap I tell you."

"Well he should have been more stubborn! When I found out that you knew, I had half the nerve to ring his neck." Harry laughed at her outrage, but could not help but notice the tremble in her lip and the wobble in her walk. Holding her more firmly, he forced down another string of questions, knowing that she would get upset. The doctor had warned him about taking it lightly and to upset her would only kill her faster. He grounded his teeth, the rampage of emotions that swam through him tearing at his insides. What would he do without her? It was a question he was asking himself more and more lately, because quite frankly she was all he had left. All that was keeping him from dying away. The burden of his past was lighter with her there, she was simply his strength; never being the one to give up or allow him to swaddle away. Without her, he would never had have the courage to ask Ginny to be his wife. Without her, his sanity would leave and eventually so would that little twinkle of hope. And he hoped, God he hoped, that this so-called specialist in the Americas would save her. He had made her promise a million and one times to assure himself that it would work; whatever the treatment was, that it would save her. He held on to that, it was his only means of staying strong.

"Harry?" her soft voice called at him again and he masked the pain he felt, looking her at only when he was sure she could not see his hurt of desertion. She smiled at him in that mothering way of hers and it tore at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and inhaled a deep breath.

"Yes?" he half whispered.

"Everything will be fine?"

"Yes everything will be fine. Ginny has been mentioning a son more and more frequently. I think she would like to start a family right away." He watched as her face brightened and he smiled.

"Well she has grown up in a large family, it is to be expected. A nephew. How wonderful. I will be quite busy now, having to divide my attention between you, Ronald and now a nephew." There was a longing in her tone and he understood it.

"I am sure you shall have your hands full when you have children of your own." He saw the flicker of uncertainty and sadness shadow her face and his heart squeezed.

"Yes...prehaps..." she trailed off, placing her smile back onto her face as they entered the brightly lit dinning room. She could not possibly tell him that she already knew the 'bliss' of matrimony; it was the only thing she had kept from him in her plea to leave England.

"Ah...there they are! We were beginning to wonder whether you had gotten lost or simply fell off the ship" Authur Weasley stated, greeting them warmly. He clasped Harry's back affectionately and pecked Hermione's cheek, guiding them to their table. As they sat, the others loudly filled them in on what they had missed and lightened the saddness that had lingered around the two.

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_Author's Note: This is what I'm currently working on, and although there's a conflict, I feel that it's going to need a lot of work, so bear with me here as I edit and re-edit this. If anyone will be as gracious as to help beta-read this story, I'd be grateful. I hope you like this fun piece of writing. Feel free to leave any suggestions...etc...as to where you'd like to see this story go...and if you have a better conflict...please...I'd like to hear your thoughts. I'm currently trying to figure out how to upload to other chapter...so it may take a while...enjoy!_


	2. Chapter 2

"Draco?" his named was softly drawled out in a suggestive manner and the person in question turned his head to see the fair haired girl step out beside him. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and turned his face out to the wind, breathing in the tangy salt of the air. He hated his solitude being interrupted but knew better than to voice it. He was in a compassionate mood and did not feel up to it to snap at some one; especially someone of the fairer sex.

"Tis so chilly out here, however do you manage to stand there like that?" she complained and he narrowed his eyes at the water, refusing to give that question the decency of a response. She did not take the warning of his silence and approaching with a much bolder stance, allowed her body to brush his in a more inappropriate manner. If he noticed her, he gave no inclination but instead continued to watch the water. Annoyance began to arise within her at his refusal to gave her any attention, but pushing it down, she focused on breaking him. She had never been denied before and it would not happen now.

"But I suppose when one enjoys the water, one forgets discomfort" she silkily breathed, and saw the quirk of his brow. Lifting her chin slightly, she brushed his hand with hers.

"Dinner was lovely, was it not?"

"Was it? I had not noticed, too much talking for my taste" he retorted, knowing fully well that she had done most of the talking and laughing and well most of pretty damn much everything...much to his aggravation She was so damn giggly and dull...lacking that fiery passion...like...No he was not going to think of that. Not tonight. Astoria Greengrass was lovely, an absolute gem. Really. However, it seemed that her looks far exceeded everything else she had in possession tied together and it only served to annoy him. She was simply just another wall flower waiting to be picked. Willing to change the rogue that was Draco Malfoy. Little did she know that the job and title was already claimed...at least for him it still was. A sigh slipped pass without his approval and squinting into the distance, he tried ignoring her.

A golden lock slipped onto her cheek and his heart squeezed because there was a certain fiery and passionate wench out there that had free spirited hair that fell onto her cheek just the same. It was a reflexive thing to brush it away but he balled his hands into fists, realizing that that particular fiery wench had lush, curling dark brown locks that refused to be caught and chained neatly, something he had adored. This girl, this fool, had fair hair and was even lighter in complexion, much to his disappointment. She seemed to have waited for him to brush it away and when he did not, she hooked it behind her ear. She sighed and as if in defeat, she turned and left him. He hid his smirk and saw her retreat back into the entrance way, giving up for the time being. If he had not grown tired of his 'wicked ways'-as his mother lightly put it- Astoria Greengrass would have been a wondrous treat. Something told him that she had never been denied before, possibly the dignified and spoiled way she lifted her nose, and he would have indulged her in a way that made her feel every ounce of worth she prized herself on. And then he would have left her bed simply because he had grown tired of her, like he did with the others. All the others expect one...'her.' And quite frankly he was a dedicated one woman type of man, always had been...just simply never having anything to thrust his dedication upon; aside from that it would have been a well deserving lesson for the snob. Too bad he had given up on that indulgence Too bad indeed. He pulled out his pipe and lighting it, he took a drag.

"Really dear, you must stop that. It leaves the most horrid smell in the air" his mother stated, glancing distastefully at the ring of smoke that floated out from his generous lips. He smirked at her and she gave him a weary look.

"That is because tis made of-"

"I know what tis made of dear, I simply do not like the smell."

"Well then, do not let me stop you from getting away from it."

"Don't be so sensitive, I don't mind at all." Narcissa watched her son look up at the sky, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I never knew you were the praying sort, you always were a difficult child when it came to Church" Narcissa murmured, ignoring his previous movements.

"If any more 'young ladies' as you put them are thrown my way, I shall have to resort to that" he mumbled, wondering how much longer he was expected to put up with her charades.  
"What was that dear?" He shook his head and she smiled slyly.

"I think dinner went well." He snorted at that and she sighed.

"Astoria is a nice young woman. What fault do 'you' find in her?"

"Talks a whole lot."

"Funny, that is exactly what your father said."

"Did he also happen to say that she had a nice arse too because I rather thought so" Draco stated, chuckling. His mother swatted at him in outrage and huffed.

"You men and your wagging tongues but if you must know, yes he did" she stated lightly, smiling when her son began to laugh harder. How easily he could be indulged.

"But you are right" she began and watched her son's brow raise in question.

"About her bottom?"

"No, about her mouth. She does seem to babble a whole lot. If there is one thing a woman should not do is place her mouth on a brew too strong for her throat."

"And you certainly do not do 'that'" he drawled teasingly and not being one to disappoint, she took the bait and hit him smartly with her fan, beaming when he gingerly rubbed his bruised arm.

"I most certainly do not. I merely wait until I am in the presence of my son and husband to do that."

"How fortunate we are" he stated dryly, smirking at her as he pecked her cheek. She continued to pout and he swallowed back his laughter.

"Tis nights like these that I wish...ah...she was around to help me handle you" Narcissa stated lightly, not mentioning the name that had floated freely to her tongue. She watched as her son froze and sadness crept into her eyes.

"Well she is not, so we will have to make due without her" he bit off, taking another puff. Narcissa closed her mouth, missing the girl's presence none the less. How could she simply disappear, simply stop calling on them and finally move to an unknown place. There was something her son was not telling her, but she knew better than to press him; just like she knew that he was probably the cause for the girl to stop visiting. He was a Malfoy man after all and if there was one thing Malfoy men were known for, it was their stubbornness.

"So I take it Miss Greengrass does not fit your mold?" they heard a deep voice so much like her son's say. They both turned their heads towards the tall figure, slightly shorter than Draco with long white-gold hair. Narcissa sighed in response and the older Malfoy smirked.

"Good riddance She did know how to talk the life out of things, did she not? But none the less, her father is a good business man and it would only be fair to invite her to dinner a few more times. To be polite."

"You men. Never pleased are you" Narcissa stated and watched her husband smile.

"Now Cissa, I don't blame the boy. One's expectations are raised when he has such a fine specimen of a mother as you" Lucius Malfoy drawled charmingly to his wife and watched her smile slyly.

"I will not have you sweet talk your way out of this. I am afraid he has grown to be a lot like his father, so very picky you lot are." Lucius quirked a brow at his wife, giving her a sheepish smile. She always knew how to call him on his bullocks.

"But gratefully he has a little of me in him, I would pray. So hope has not left us as of yet!" she stated and both men allowed her to rant. It was better that she went on now, that way the spirit of the subject would deflate later, on its own accord. She quickly ran out of breath and settled into the silence of the air, glancing at either sides of her to make sure that she was still in her family's presence Draco had handed his pipe to his father, who now took leisure puffs from the wretched thing. She gave him an irritable look and taking a long puff, Lucius handed his son back his pipe. He averted his gaze, avoiding the balls of fire that glowed in his wife's eyes. How she knew to keep him in check was beyond Draco but he hid his grin and turned back to the view. It was nice, the silence and his company. They did not need to speak or even look at each other, it was better that way. They were able to communicate in ways that only the silence could sound out. He knew when they left however, but even that did not bother him much. What did, was the feeling that he was chasing after a ghost, a scent that had lingered on in his nostrils and floated about in his system. He did not know why all of this was rushing back to him, that tingle that bubbled in the back of his throat and the nape of his neck. And suddenly the image of the woman clad in red returned to him. His brows furrowed in concentration and he tried to remember where exactly he had been and whether he would remember anything new or not. Alas it was futile and he shook his head as if to clear it. It could not have been her.


	3. Chapter 3

_**I've posted this story on the website "Figment" also under the title "On the Way to the Wedding" That is a few chapters ahead, if you're curious!**_

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Hermione rushed down the corridors, the passage for receiving oxygen in her lungs closing in on her. Her stomach constricted and spammed in a bitter;y sour way and before she could fully collapse and hurl the contents of her stomach on the hall's carpeting, a strong arm caught her and she gratefully leaned her weight on it. Harry's worried eyes were the last thing she saw before black sparks frizzled in-front of her eyes and she went limp. At least she had been able to maintain control over her nauseousness the strength it took to do so however had been far greater than she expected and completely drained she allowed herself to go unconscious When she woke, her body was glued to the duvet that trapped her. She felt queasy, the hallows of her stomachs coiling in foul knots. Something told her it was not from her sickness but from the blurring vision of white-gold locks she had seen moving about on the upper decks when she had gone out for fresh air after dinner. Her heart squeezed and she curled onto her side, pain edging around her whole body and again it was not from her sickness. She tried telling herself that it was not...'**_him,_**' that it was a mere coincidence It was not like '_**he'**_ was the only one in the world that had unique, one-of-a-kind, white-gold hair, that was as soft as it looked. It was not like he was the only tall, pale figure in the world. No, of course not. Really, he wasn't. She shifted, her eyes scratching. Her lower lip quivered and she glared at the ceiling, angry that she would cry over some thing of the past. She had promised herself not to do anything of the kind and grounding her teeth, she narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin in determination. Yes, determination was allowing her to remember at least something. No matter what, she wanted to remember him, even though the memories of them being together were slowly slipping away, she would not let herself forget the reason for her past happiness and well-being. She owed 'him' that much. No matter that it left an ache in her heart. The greater the pain the better. It made her conscious of it and even if she couldn't fully remember at first, she'd slowly recollect and '_**that'**_ at least allowed her to cling to hope.  
She turned her head to notice Ginny, sleeping in a nearby armchair. Hermione frowned, wondering if the girl had put herself in discomfort over herself. Deciding that it was better to let her sleep, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to recollect what exactly she had seen.

She remembered moving through the entrance and glancing up, only to spot white-gold locks blowing in the wind. She did not catch the face of it's owner but instead saw the glint of a gold ring, one resembling that of a family helium One that a certain person she knew had with his family's initial printed onto it. It had taken her awhile to realize the familiarity that tugged at the strings in her mind and suddenly air seemed to have ceased to exist. Shuddering at the thought, Hermione opened her eyes and bit her lower lip. No, there will be no crying, she scolded. At least not any more. She had done too much of that already and she was not going to waste any more of her time pondering on the past. She had did what she had to for 'his' sake as well as her own. She needed to get through this without any more regrets. It was the only way she would be able to push forward and not want to go back. She 'couldn't' go back. This was simply something she 'had' to do, she reminded herself.

Struggling to sit up, she clasped her trembling fingers around the glass of water that rested by her side. Lifting it, she took a sip and sighed, taking another. It quenched the dryness that lingered in her throat and lying back down, she closed her eyes again. It was not long when she opened them again at the sound of Ginny waking up. Their eyes met and Ginny released a sigh of her own.

"How are you feeling? Harry told me that you were not feeling well. You have had every one worried" Ginny murmured, coming to stand by her bedside.

"I am glad you are awake now" she added. Hermione smiled apologetically and shifted into a sitting position.

"Sorry. I was just tired I suppose or possibly too overwhelmed by such splendid news." Ginny nodded and sat down by her side, smoothing the hair-that clung to her scalp-away from her forehead.

"It's okay. You need not explain." There was a knock on the door and at Ginny's permission to enter, both Harry and Ron filed into Herimone and Ginny's chambers.

"Let me at her" Ron murmured, smiling. Hermione smiled back, squeezing his hand when he took hers. Harry stood apart from everyone else, watching Hermione carefully. She avoided his gaze and focused on Ginny and Ron, knowing that he would ask her questions that she quite frankly did not know how to answer. She did not like the idea of admitting to him that she was still very much in love with a man that she should not be in love with. A man who had probably forgotten her; as she was dreading she soon would him. She opened eyes that she had not realized she had closed at the sound of another knock on the door and glancing wearily at it, she sighed.  
Molly Weasley, forever the fussing mother hen, swept into the room, looking at Hermione and frowning. Pushing the boys towards the door, she nodded at Ginny to lock the door as she shrugged out of her straw hat.

"Why was I not called when she fell sick?" she asked, smoothing away the damp locks that tickled the soft skin of Hermione's forehead. Ginny looked at Hermione and then back at her mother, shifting uncomfortably.

"Well, Harry found her and he did not want to worry you, so he called me" the girl offered, shrugging helplessly. Molly laughed softly and nodded her head.

"Not yet married and already he acts like a husband seeking out his wife to mend things" the elder murmured, moving about the room to gather up a few things. Stating a few directions at Ginny, the woman rolled up her tight sleeves to the full extent it could be pushed up and settled into taking care of the girl that she had come to think of as her elder daughter.


	4. Chapter 4

Narcissa Malfoy watched the rigid back of her son and sighed, wondering where his mind had dragged him off to this time. It was becoming more and more common for him to go off into one of those distant places that he went that left no way of her reaching him. She never liked to see her child this distant, almost in a dead-like trance. Shifting in her seat at the morning table, she ignored her husband when he lifted his head from the morning papers to give her a questioning look and took a sip from her tea. She lifted herself up from her seat and excused herself, deciding that if she were to lift her son's spirits then she would need open spaces to think.

Stepping out of the level 'A' morning room, she stepped down a few stairs and entered the ballroom-like space that levels 'A,' 'B' and 'C' shared. Smiling pleasantly, she looked around approvingly. She almost jumped out of her bones, however, when someone collided with her, both of them taken by surprise. She shifted her gaze and gasped, frozen to the ground that she stood on. Blinking repeatedly, she broke into a dazzling smile, not believing her luck.

"Hermione?" she breathed and the young girl returned a winsome smile. She clasped the girl in a crushing hug, clinging on to her, just to make sure that she was not a figment of her imagination. Pulling away slightly, teary-eyed, she laughed apologetically. Brushing a few straying locks from the girls face, she cupped her face and sighed.

"Let me have a look at you. I have missed you a great deal my dear, I fear Draco can never be managed when you are not there" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. She tired ignoring the painful look that crossed the child's eyes at the mention of Draco and chose instead to look at how wonderful, if not a bit fragile, she looked in her pale blue morning dress. She failed to notice the shake in the girl's hand but did notice the rosy hue that brightened her cheeks.

"You look stunning dear. Truly, you do." Hermione smiled, trying to hide the sadness that still lingered in her face. It had taken her a very long moment to recollect just whom this affectionate and magnificent woman was. At her unconscious hints, Hermione quickly gathered her wits.

"I hope all is well. I did not know your family would be journeying to the Americas" Hermione replied, giving the woman a questioning stare.

"Oh, yes, yes. We are going to Charleston, my family estates. Lucius has not been well and Draco thought it best to leave England for a while" Narcissa answered. Hermione nodded and restrained herself from asking more about Draco. She should have known that they would think a like. Him and her. She was snapped out of her thoughts when suddenly Narcissa smiled again and grasped her arm.

"I would like you to join us for dinner. It would be rather nice after not seeing you for so long" the older woman began and when she saw the hesitant way in which Hermione looked at her, she pouted slightly.

"After all, tis the only way you can be forgiven for not saying goodbye" she added and grinned when Hermione nodded, a look of pure guilt blending into her features. Nodding in return, she clasped her arm with the girl's and steered her towards the other end of the room, chattering gaily about the upcoming evening and all the trifle little news she had missed out on in her 'disappearance.'  
Hermione swallowed nervously, the palms of her hands sweating slightly. She wondered if it was too obvious that she was wearing emerald green because it was Draco's favorite color on her. Pausing in the corridor, she debated on whether she should turn around and send a note of apology that she was ill or simply to continue on. Hating what this was doing to her nerves, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin slightly, walking determinedly towards the dinning room. After all, she did have a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why she had left.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco sat rigidly in his seat, anxious as to what exactly, or rather whom exactly, was his mother so excited about. He had noticed the extra seat at their table and now he sat with a certain tingle of dread. Absentmindedly, his hand toyed with the gold band that rested in his pocket, circling the gleaming symbol of what he once had and now lost. He had never been one for surprises and not feeling any different in this case, he tapped his feet impatiently. His mother smiled at him again, for what seemed far too often than normal, and he chose to take that as a sign of caution. Finally when his patience seemed to have reached it's utmost limit, his mother stood and blocked the figure, from his view, that had paused only a few feet away from the table. Standing as well, he gripped the lapel of his waistcoat and held his breath, not sure what exactly he was supposed to do with himself. His father seemed to have sensed his anxiousness but chose to not comment on it; instead he gave his son a pat on the shoulder.

His mother finally moved away and he froze, his heart seizing in it's beating. His teeth grounded together and he tried hard not to stare. It was damn near impossible however for she was wearing his favorite color. He cursed her for it because she looked stunning. Too stunning for her own good. Realizing that he should be seated, he nodded in her direction and sat stiffly in his seat. Lifting his glass of wine, he took a sip and settled his gaze on the crisp white-lien of the table cloth.

"It was such a wonderful surprise, Draco..." his mother was saying and he lifted his gaze to her face. She was beaming and he scowled inwardly. His father, the traitor, was fully engaged in a debate that he, for once,seemed to be pleased in losing. Of all people for his father to be charmed by, it had to be this wench in particular. But Draco was not surprise, his father and mother had always had a soft spot for Hermione. He nodded slightly to his mother, bidding her to continue.

"I rather say it was a surprise for the both of us. She was the last person I would expect to run into on my exploring" Narcissa stated, sighing in a contended way. Draco stayed silent, taking a bite of his duck. Chewing slowly, he took a chance to steal a glance at the subject of his mother's conversation. The wine had stained her lips, turning them from a soft red to a fully plump hue; almost as if she had been ravished for quite some time. Choking slightly on that thought, he took a gulp of his drink and cleared his throat silently. Glancing back at her he quipped that her flushed skin and the few escaping curls that clung to the sides of her neck and her nape did not help. And how could he forget that her gown, which clung to her form a little too snugly was similar to the color of the sheets that splayed across his bed? Shifting in his seat, he tried to distract himself from arising suspicion to his obvious state.  
He scowled himself but that only caused him to sulk, not apace his consciousness of her. He thought about trivial things. He thought about falling off of his horse at the age of five. And finally he thought of his aunt and her frantically aggressive behavior and finally that served to distract him. Aunt Bella had some purpose after all, he quipped and smirked.

"What 'tis the matter dear?" his mother asked him, drawing him away from his thoughts. Turning to her, he shook his head, assuring her that it was nothing of importance. Sighing, Narcissa gripped his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Hermione wanted to get some air, I was wondering if you would join her. After all, it would be unsafe to send her outside unescourted and she is in our care for the time being" she stated sweetly and he stiffened. Reluctantly, he nodded and standing, he moved around the table to Hermione's seat and offered her his hand. Unsure, she took it and tried not to flinch when his fingers tightened their hold around her hand. She saw his jaw set and lifted her chin slightly, telling herself that he had no right to act as if it were all 'her' fault. He placed her hand in the bend of his arm and steered her towards the entrance leading to the balcony. When they were well out of ear and eye shot, he spun her around to face him, his face fully basked in anger.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed. She tried yanking her arm away but his grip tightened and she flinched.

"'Tis a ship. 'Tis journeying to the Americas. I am sure that you are more than adequate of putting it together" she replied, lifting her chin. He crushed her to him, leaning down to glare at her levelly, hoping that she could see the warning that blazed there; but if she was ever one thing, it was fearlessly-maybe even a bit stupidly-immune to his temper.

"You seem to forget 'wife' that you are the one at fault here, not me."

"You are hurting my arm" she whispered slowly, her voice full of hurt. He released her arm but kept her to him and ignoring her raised eyebrow, he narrowed his eyes at her.

"How did my mother find you?"

"We met in the ball-room area" she murmured, trying to pull away. Her cheeks flushed and her heart thumped wildly in her chest when-again-he refused to let her go. She saw something flash across his features and paused. Her insides screamed at her, telling her to not feel anything for him, to simply hurt him and try to live with herself later. But something about the way his lips hovered above hers made her freeze in anticipation and for a moment, it was almost similar to one of those days where they had shared kisses and caresses in hiding, both refusing to unwound from each-other As quickly as the memory had snaked into her mind, it was gone and left behind a cold trail of regret and heartache. Regret at leaving and heartache at knowing that she had to, that she did not possibly deserve him enough to burden him with her illness. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she looked away, afraid that he would see her emotions betray her in her eyes. He had always seen right through her; her eyes always a clear, open portal for him.

"I did not know you were going to be here. It was a coincidence that your mother ran into me earlier and believe it or not, I would not have come" she stated into the silence, her honesty snapping across the air and hitting him in the face. He grounded his teeth, refusing to acknowledge that some part of him had hoped that she had purposefully accepted his mother's invitation and had wanted to see him. But he knew that his mother always had a means for getting what she wanted; Hermione would be no different. Quite the opposite really, always willing to indulge his family-him most of all-to their hearts content. And being one to lash out when he was most hurt, he glared at her. Curling his lips, he refused to be the one to break. 'He' had done enough of that to last him a lifetime. It was her turn to feel how he had felt when he had woken up and found that the one person he'd ever really bare his soul to to be gone, and to know that his fear had come true, that he really did not deserve her and her love.

"I don't happen to give a damn. You are a liar, what does it matter whether I believe you or not?" he asked, allowing his kempt-up anger to simmer to the surface. All he really wanted to do was kiss her senseless and threaten her if she ever left him again, but he was a Malfoy and if Malfoy's were one thing it was prideful bastards. His pride and bruised feelings were all that stood in his way. And God almighty knew, that at that moment there were nothing else that he hated more than his pride and long healed wounds. Cursing himself, he watched her under his lashes, not sure of how longer he would be able to hold onto her and contain himself. It was just, incredible to feel her presence, to know that she truly and really was there, in his arms with her body pressed to his like that. She had lost quite a few pounds. His eyes scanned over her face that glowed a pale hue, unnatural from it's normal golden hue; radiating warmth. His brows furrowed into a frown and he unconsciously lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles across her jaw. An audible gasp escaped her lips and if he had not been so preoccupied with the dark marks under her eyes, he would have smirked.

"Draco" she murmured and his body automatically responded, just the way it always had and possibly always would; almost as if it had been tailored to work with her voice. Setting his jaw, he released her and pulled away, giving her his back to stare at. He needed to concentrate, his plan, not even fully blossomed had already disintegrated in front of him and he formed a silent string of oaths to throw at the wind. Why was it, that this one particular woman was the unnerving of him?

"Malfoy-" she began and he laughed turning around to glare at her again.

"What wife, no longer Draco am I?" She faltered slightly and for a moment he saw her eyes break and reveal something to him that he wasn't sure he liked.

"I do not know. What would you like me to say?"

"What ever you please. But it would be nice for an explanation One in person this time. I think it would make up for the one you did not place in that pathetic letter you left me. 'Tis one thing to wake up in an empty bed wife, but 'tis another, entirely, to wake up to a load of bullocks written neatly on fresh parchment. Tell me was it too difficult for that ice heart of yours to face me in person?" he bit out and she gasped, grounding her teeth.

"This is not all my fault. You have no idea what 'tis been like" she hissed and he smirked humorlessly.

"Well how am I to know that if you refuse to tell me anything? Would you like some more parchment?" She slapped him then and when she would have done it again, he caught her hand.

"Once is enough thank you very much. I am not keen to hitting women, pet, so I would advise you to not tempt me" he murmured, both of them knowing his threat was light. If he had ever opposed to anything strongly, it would be abuse to those of the fairer gender and she returned his glare.

"You would never-"

"Do not tempt me-"

"I would not dream of it-"

"Did not know you could do such things-"

"Neither I" and then she faltered, what she had said fully dawning on her. Her cheeks brightened and she stumbled over correcting herself. He smirked, letting go of her hand and beaming openly. She huffed in outrage and made a move to brush past him when he caught her around the waist.

"Do not think this is over" he whispered, his breath lingering with hers. He planted his lips on hers firmly, his teeth catching her lower lip and tugging it lightly. Pulling away at the soft moan that escaped her mouth, he smirked; watching her stumbling away from him in utter surprise. Her fingers touched her lips and her cheeks brightened; outrage blossoming.

"That will never happen again" she bit out through her teeth and turned.

"I would not count on that for the life of me" he stated before she could disappear. He saw her pause and then she straightened her spine, entering the dinning hall. When he returned his mother was narrowing her eyes at him while his father was beaming silently. Hermione was no where in sight and claiming his retirement to bed, he ignored his mothers prodding and his fathers pleased smirk.  
The nerve of the bastard. Hermione absentmindedly returned her fingers to her lips, fully enraged and embarrassed. But it was one marvelous kiss. She mentally shook her head, scolding herself for getting side tracked. Grounding her teeth, she planted her hands on her hips, fully intending on having her revenge. He was not going to do this to her. She was not going to let him get to her. Not if she could help it. Bursting through the door to her chambers, she froze when she saw the sight of Ginny, holding the gleaming gold band and small portrait she usually contained in the locked draw at her desk.


End file.
